


divergent path (SHYBM) : tension in the cave

by redbirb



Series: Drabbles and Things for SHYBM (SHYLM) [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Gen, M/M, this is gonna hurt sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbirb/pseuds/redbirb
Summary: He takes it gratefully, a smile curling his lips. “I could kiss you right now.”It’s meant to be a joke, a fun little poke of a thank you. Instead Jason is looking at him, contemplation heavy in his eyes. It causes Tim to shiver, little pinpricks of heat dancing up his spine and the back of his neck.“Yeah?”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Drabbles and Things for SHYBM (SHYLM) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932859
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	divergent path (SHYBM) : tension in the cave

**Author's Note:**

> What would have happened if Jason and Dick made their move while Tim was stuck in the cave? 
> 
> Setting of my fic [_see how you broke me (see how you lost me)_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124100) during the second chapter when Tim is babysat by Dick and Jason in the cave after he almost bled out on the streets of Gotham. There's angst, some kissing and a not so happy ending.

Mornings (which are really late afternoon in Wayne Manor thanks to nocturnal activities) have become a routine of breakfast and stretches. His leg is healing up fine, he’s able to rotate it with minimal difficulty and pain, but the stretching exercises help. His only problem really is how enthusiastic Dick is in trying to help him.

“There we go.”

Tim glares the first robin down, the hand on his leg seeping warmth through the soft cotton sweatpants he’s wearing. This is not welcome yet he has little say in the matter at the moment. Someone has to help lift his leg up and his choices are limited on who to accept assistance from. Having Jason sitting nearby and watching doesn’t help.

“You’re getting better every day.” And no, Dick’s praise nor concerns mean nothing, it’s all hot air. Tim doesn’t care what the fuck he thinks.

“You mean soon I’ll be out of here,” he can’t help saying. It’s spit bitterly from his lips, like venom, poison trapped inside each word.

Dick’s face contorts into one of sadness and disappointment. Good, Tim thinks even at the harsh clench of his heart. _Know that I’m not staying and playing your stupid little game longer than I have._

“That’s funny,” Jason cuts in, both Dick and Tim’s heads turning to give him due attention. If Tim wasn’t so keenly aware of his piercing gaze on them, he would have forgotten the guy was there at all. “Considering it’s really up to B when ya walk out o’ here. And I’m gettin’ that feelin’, the one that says ya ain’t gonna go nowhere soon.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“We follow the rules, Tim,” Dick reminds with a gentle hand rubbing at a bony ankle. The motion would feel nice if Tim didn’t feel like jumping the hell outta his own damn skin.

After strategically pulling his leg back to him (Dick’s fingers slipping over his skin as he does and it pulls a shiver across his spine so intense he thinks he might whimper) Jason is moving over, sitting next to Dick like he’s some kind of boulder that can prevent Tim from running away from them. Good luck assholes, he’s been gone for a long time now, and he ain’t coming back just because you all feel bad suddenly for what happened.

“I’m not one of the Bats anymore.”

“What the fuck?” Jason’s growl is downright pissed. “Who the fuck said that?”

“You did.” Tim glares with an air of accusation. “And Damian. And Dick.”

“I never said that,” Dick quickly jumps in. “I only wanted -”

“- me gone. Just like Damian. Just like Jason.”

Jason is watching him critically, burning holes into his defenses. He looks like he wants to say something, but Dick is talking a mile a minute, about forgiveness and other shit. Lies, all of them. Tim knows his place now, knows it isn’t here anymore, probably never was to begin with.

“Ya know,” cuts into the rambling from the eldest, drawing attention back to Jason who has been staring Tim down the whole time,” I used to hate ya.”

“Jason -”

“Not now, Dickie. Lemme talk. I ain’t here to lie to ya. I did bad, real bad. Ya were just a kid tryin’ to do somethin’ right and I was a guy crawlin’ outta a grave fresh from the supermarket o’ dead. My head ain’t right, then or even now sometimes. I always did ya in, always comin’ after ya even when ya did good to me.”

Tim is choking up a bit because Jason is honestly sincere, he can hear and believe it because Jason doesn’t bullshit the way most people do. He’s honest, Gotham honest in that brazen way you learn to be when you’ve lived on the streets for a long time.

But Jason isn’t done, still talking, still staring at Tim with eyes that speak regret.

“I shoulda done right by ya. I shoulda thanked ya for savin’ my sorry ass after throwin’ it back into the fire time and time again. I blamed ya for things that weren’t ya fault. I shoulda let ya go when ya didn’t want to be my Robin. I shoulda reached out when ya went AWOL, we all shoulda came runnin’ to find ya.”

Jason pauses, reaches a hand forward to press under one of Tim’s eyes where a tear has escaped as a gentle touch. _It’s the medicine making me emotional. It’s the medicine…_

“Ya don’t have to forgive us right now. Hell, I understand. But give us a chance to right the wrong, yeah? Give us a second chance to be there for ya.”

Dick is silent, also watching, as Tim fish-mouths his way around his speechlessness. A sob is trapped somewhere between chest and throat and Tim desperately tries to keep it back. Those words are everything he ever wanted to hear months ago, two fucking years ago. It hurts to hear them now. Too long, too late, too fucking bad. This is just peddling false hopes and dreams.

Tim ducks his head instead, so tired of looking weak infront of these two. After a moment he speaks quietly. “I wanted things to be different.”

“They still can be,” Dick says quietly, reaching out to take his hand. This touch feels better, less constricting. “I’m sorry for hurting you, that I never wanted to do to you. It was… it was a crazy time, you know? I could’ve done it better, talked things through.”

A start… Tim can give him that little inch for now.

“We love ya, Timmy,” Jason adds, and the usual snark is softened around the curves of his mouth, his hand joining Dick’s comfort, this time on Tim’s leg, just resting there. They’ve switched from chains to blankets, solid and warm against his skin.

“I love you,” he echoes back quietly,” more than you’ll ever know.”

And he sleeps more peacefully that night.

\---

The medicine trickles down to barely anything now that the worst of his injuries have been thwarted. He still needs time to heal, far too much time that leads to excuses of keeping him here. At first he hated it, but after a small truce between himself and the others, it doesn't appear entirely as awful as he'd made it out to be (so dramatic Timmy, geez).

What is getting on his nerves is the fact that he can’t get his hands on a damn computer.

“Anything,” he nearly begs because he has reports to file and cases to study, oh and that thing called a _team_ that’s waiting to hear back from him because if they don’t then all hell will really break loose ; he very much wants to avoid that. “Just five minutes is all I need.”

“Big man said no eye strain for the time being.”

Tim wants to gouge out his eyes at this point, or Dick’s who sounds a little too chipper at reinforcing Bruce’s ridiculous rules. He will be perfectly fine with a small computer for an hour, he’s not going to shrivel and die like the Wicked Witch when sprayed with water. A bright smile crosses Dick’s lips to meet Tim’s persistent glare.

“Sorry Timmy, what the big man says goes.”

A snort. “As if you haven’t bent the rules before.”

“What rules are we breakin’?” Jason asks while coming down into the cave.

"The no computer rule," Dick stresses with a pointed look carefully aimed at the two of them in that no-nonsense manner that screams _I used to be Batman, you know._

“Live a little, Goldie,” Jason jokes and sends a wink over at Tim.

“No. Computers.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m takin’ over babysittin’ duty, get outta my seat.” A rolling of the eyes later, Dick is up and making his way upstairs. Jason quickly takes the empty seat by Tim’s cot, an appraising look over his condition and he seems pleased to see the other looking better. “Whatcha need a computer fer, Timbo?”

“To play Minecraft,” he says sarcastically because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what a vigilante like Red Robin could need an electronic and internet access for. At Jason’s unimpressed look ( _I see a little smirk starting to form Jay, I gotcha_ ), Tim breaks. “My team is about to go bonkers if I don’t check in. They’re very keen on keeping their only squishy human member alive.”

“Sounds like you pull the dying card too much.”

“Look who's talking.”

Jason doesn’t hide his amusement now, full grin on display as laughter bubbles up and out his throat. “Watch it, Timbo, you know I really did die, remember?”

“Couldn’t forget,” he murmurs because it’s not something he thinks of lightly. “Jay I really need to do this. I don’t want them knocking on the door demanding to see me, you know how Bruce gets.”

“He’s got the kryptonite, he’s fine.” It’s a joke, but Tim frowns. Eventually Jason relents, digging through a pocket as he hands over a small electronic device, something Tim had made with his own hands out of a Wayne Enterprises prototype that was postponed production, something he’d fondly called ‘TYPE’. “Ya got two minutes before Alfred comes down wit’ food and scoffish attitude.”

He takes it gratefully, a smile curling his lips. “I could kiss you right now.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a fun little poke of a thank you. Instead Jason is looking at him, contemplation heavy in his eyes. It causes Tim to shiver, little pinpricks of heat dancing up his spine and the back of his neck.

“Yeah?”

A gulp, something heavy in his chest. “I-I mean -”

A sound on the top of the stairs leading down to the cave startles him, finishing his message and handing back the device before a certain butler can catch him in the act. Their fingers brush for just the briefest second, but it blooms something warm along the skin that collides softly. A glance into Jason’s eyes tells him that look he’d noticed hasn’t faded, if anything it is more intense and determined, searching Tim’s own eyes for… something.

\---

Bart is pissed.

It’s ten minutes passed check-in time and there’s been no word from Red Robin. He’s ready to go, to find him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Where is he? Why is he taking so long? His thoughts are bouncing too, upsetting thoughts that come with blood and _it’s too late_ ’s.

“I just got a message,” Gar comes into the main room, Raven looking grim as she follows. “He gave out the code ‘Protocol Omega 2’.”

“The fuck?” Kon doesn’t sound happy about this either. Good, Bart needs someone to be on his side in this. “We did _**not**_ agree on that.”

But that was the thing about Timothy Jackson Drake, he noted down disagreements like footnotes and then never regarded them again. Gods, what were they going to do with him.

“It also stated he was in Gotham.”

And things just keep getting better, very sarcastically better.

“You think one of the Bats got to him first?” Cassie sounds wary and she should be, they all are thinking the same thing. Red Robin is not a Bat anymore, at least that’s what he told them after breaking down one night when the original Batman was found. It broke their hearts, they broke for and with Tim, and they weren’t about to hand him back over for any reason.

Miguel clears his throat, a voice of reason (maybe, Bart doesn’t know anymore he’s going cuckoo for cocoa puffs right now) in the chaos. “Maybe he’s taking a minute to get information on another case. You know how he is about work…”

“I’m going,” Bart chimes in, buzzing with energy. “You can sit on your butts if you want, but I’m not talking to one of _them_ about Tim. I’m going to get him.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, looking up to see Kon, a determined and worried expression adorning his face. “I’m going too. I don’t think it’s good to leave him on his own, whether he’s fine or not. And if one of the Bats got to him…”

“He didn’t say they did.”

“Maybe he can’t,” Bart accused quickly. “Maybe he’s trapped. Why else would he send a message and not video call one of us like he’s supposed to?”

“Bart,” Gar tries.

“Look I know Nightwing is your friend, but Tim is _mine_ , first and always. He’s been hurt real bad and I don’t trust a single one of them to do right by him.

“Then go,” Raven interrupts before any in-fighting can occur. “I’m going to try to find a way to locate him through the suit’s trackers. Everyone else needs to be on standby.”

Gar loves her and her confidence and her ability to stop a metaphorical train crash before it can happen. They split up and Gar makes sure to send Bart an encouraging smile as they separate. God help them all if they can’t find Red Robin.

\---

Tim is sick of looking up at the cave ceiling and trying to count the bats he can barely see. He’s tired of being confined to a cot and the same company he never really wanted in the first place (half a lie, Duke is rad, he’’s at least fun to talk to and doesn’t try to pry him open).

He’s stuck with Jason and Dick again, constant guards that watch and inspect him, they joke and tousle his hair much to his disgruntled tolerance. It wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t make his insides feel all fuzzy and warm and tight, discomfort and happiness having a fencing duel in his stomach. Every look that passes over him feels intimate and too intense, unused to being the center of their attention (but they’d looked at him before, never this way, never like this).

“Timmy,” Dick whines as he rests a cheek on a slim shoulder, warm breath tickling through the fabric of a blue shirt. “I need cuddles. Like right now, right this second.”

“Yer already hangin’ off him, ya weirdo.”

“You’re just jealous, Jay.”

There’s a glint in Jason’s eyes then, something that foreshadows the break in their somewhat peaceful limbo. “Oh yeah? Timmy said he’d kiss me yesterday.”

Dick stills where he’s been rubbing a cheek against Tim’s shirt, the kind of stillness that comes with assessment and many racing, deductive thoughts. He pulls back to give Tim a pout, but his eyes are the same kind of intense Jason’s had been that night when those words slipped out. It’s like he’s looking for the truth, if Tim really would, if he asked would Tim say yes.

_They don’t need to know. They don’t care… right?_

“What about Dickie?” Tim tears his eyes away to look at Jason. “C’mon, those pouty lips look nice and soft. I’m pretty sure he’s one o’ those dirty kissers.”

“Shut up,” and Dick’s voice is strained,” that’s you.”

“Yeah,” all eyes on Tim now and his palms are sweaty,” yeah baby, I am.”

“One kiss for each of us. It’s only fair,” Dick says softly.

“Wh-What? I thought… I thought it was a joke,” he interjects weakly. This is like something out of a dream, the kind he doesn’t have anymore since the whole Cowl fiasco.

He gulps. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s that he shouldn’t, he really can’t get mixed up in these feelings again. Come on, Tim, you’re smarter than this, stronger than some dumb crushes you had when you were a kid.

But if they’re offering…

“It’s not like you want to,” is settled on through all the questions and statements that could’ve been made.

“What if I want to,” Jason challenges.

“Can we?” Dick joins in, and now Tim is bracketed on both sides by bodies that radiate heat and strength and _oh god this is not a drill, I repeat, **not** a drill._

“You… You…”

He turns his head to Dick first, eyes wide and he wonders what Dick sees because he can’t pinpoint exactly how he feels yet, can’t fathom what emotions must be reflected in him. But Dick’s are full of caution and something close to want, close to affection, something Tim has waited and yearned for.

It’s just distance, just a small push forward and Tim is coveted by lips he is unfamiliar with, a gentle brush that turns into a slight suck against his lower lip, teasing and flirtatious. A hand settles against his hip, a thumb digging into his waistband as if to keep him there. It lasts for an indiscernible amount of time before Dick lets Tim go, leaves him to gasp out a shuddering breath.

“Nice, right?” Jason whispers in his ear. “Like kissing an angel.”

And then a hand is moving his face and Jason is staring down at him like he’s trying to figure out if Tim is about to punch him or not. He decides, it seems, as new lips descend upon his kissed ones, tasting with a flick of a tongue before molding them together sweetly. It’s as gentle as Dick’s had been, but the tongue reappears and Tim is opening his mouth on instinct as it turns a little dirtier, the hand that held his chin slipping to the back of his neck, tugging lightly on the hair it finds there. He forgets how to breathe, too busy cataloging this whole scene into his ‘ _things I thought I would never experience_ ’ memory bank.

Ending that kiss sets off an empty feeling in his chest, a hollow ringing that has him gasping for another reason. He brings his hands up to his face like a shield, like it’ll protect him from intense gazes that haven’t left him since they came down here to watch over him.

_It hurts. It **hurts**._

“Tim?” He hears - Jason maybe? He doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to hear them.

It hurts and he doesn’t know how to make it stop, chest constricting painfully as he fights for a breath. Then there are hands on him, his shoulders and hands engulfed by what was once comforting are now caging him.

“Let go,” he mumbles, then louder,” let _go_!”

The hands recede after a started moment, allowing him to curl up and replace his hands with his knees. He's starting to get it together, just another minute to collect his thoughts, to push down the bile rising in his throat, to bury aside the old wounds that have been reopened.

Fuck this, he’s not scared, he’s _**angry**_.

“That was fucked,” he hisses, emboldened by his makeshift barrier. “That’s a fucking joke to you guys?”

“Hey, hey. It was no joke,” placating tone falling sour on Tim’s ears, twisting the hurt further into a tight knot that lay within his chest. “I thought ya were pickin’ up what we was layin’ down, baby.”

He shouldn’t shiver at the petname, but he does and it only fuels his need to get the fuck away from these assholes. How dare they, how _**dare**_ they -

“My feelings aren’t a toy for you to play with.”

“We didn’t - sweetheart, please.”

Tim doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to entertain the idea. He wasn’t ready to forgive them for what happened just yet, had given them a chance to sort of try and this is what they’ve chosen to do.

“Timmy… Tim,” Dick tries next, a hand coming back to touch his leg.

Tim lashes out lightning quick, pinching a nerve that makes Dick’s arm go limp, the hand falling away, a technique he’s mastered in the dark, could do if he went blind tomorrow. He can’t see the shock on their faces and he doesn’t care to.

“Just go,” he says. He can’t bring himself to look at them now, the tears are beginning to form, wetting the sheets that have bunched between his face and knees.

Whatever silent conversation they have with each other ends in them getting up. He’s grateful and pained at every sound, decision and move they make. He prays for sleep, prays for silence, wants nothing but white noise in his brain for the next hour as he collects his thoughts.

“We’ll get Duke,” Dick says quietly.

He almost snaps, he doesn’t need a babysitter and he doesn’t need another witness to his flaws, but he accepts it in silence if only to get them moving faster. He doesn’t talk when Duke comes down, turns to lie on his stomach and close his eyes, hoping it isn’t obvious his heart has been torn in two.

\---

Breaking into Wayne Manor is probably not the best idea, but Kon is out of options when Bart is literally a speed demon that will go through a dozen walls and kick a hundred asses without mercy if it means saving their friend. That or pull all his hair out with worry. Probably the former.

From what he remembers from a brief visit, there are sensors in the yard, a somewhat friendly guard dog roaming the manor itself and an eerily observant butler that knows all. The cameras will probably catch them, but as long as they can figure out where Tim is and if he’s okay, it’ll be worth the scolding later about breaking and entering.

“Wait,” Kon grabs the back of Bart’s hoodie to stall him infront of the grandfather clock he knows leads down to the cave. Being a superhuman has its perks like having knowledge he probably shouldn’t. He manages to move it, most likely tripping a silent alarm, but the gap is enough for him and Bart to squeeze through, racing down the steps.

“Tim!” Bart leaves caution to the wind, speeding over to a cot surrounded by machines that beep and make those strange machinery noises. “Tim, god, you had me so worried.”

The figure on the cot sits up, blearily blinking at their approach. “B-Bart? How did you -”

Kon raises a hand, half-sheepish, half-proud of himself. “We have to move. Quickly.”

Tim gets the memo and doesn’t hesitate to stand, grabbing a nearby set of crutches. His frown makes his friend smile reassuringly. “It’s minor, almost healed. Let’s just get the hell out of here… please.”

Kon will shelve the stern talking to for later (besides Cassie is better at it than him anyway). Bart is shaking his head, opening his mouth to speak when -

“Who the hell are you?”

Uh-oh, a Bat alert.

“Easy, Duke. These are my friends, they’re a part of the Titans.”

“Ohmygod, is that Superboy?”

“Hi, dude. Sorry but we want him back now.” He puffs up a bit, showing off his broad shoulders and chest, trying to be an intimidating sight. The glow of his eyes from deep blue to red is what does the trick, just a flash Tim, don’t glare at him like that.

“Oh, uh, big man isn’t going to like this.”

“I’m sorry, Duke, but I need to go. I’ll be fine and I’ll check in, don’t worry.”

Kon can see the way Tim’s jaw is clenched, clipped tone almost an order. He has to get Tim the hell out of dodge, judging by the dried tear stains on his face he’s been trapped here long enough. Without further delay, Kon scoops Tim up gently, Bart grabbing the crutches and then they are darting back up the stone steps.

They manage to get out, no surprises along the way and Kon breathes a sigh of relief. Rescue mission a success, now to access the damage.

“Tim? You okay, buddy?”

“No,” is choked out after a moment. “No, I’m not. Perch.”

Kon doesn’t need to be told twice. He signals Bart to move ahead, tucks Tim under his chin, wrapping his arms around him in a secure hold and they’re off.

\---

Tim is home, the Perch’s familiarity shedding the anxiety that had been buzzing under his skin since he laid eyes on his two teammates and friends. He’ll apologize to Duke later, he’ll send health screenings to the Big Man and he’ll go about his days being fussed by the Titans until he can walk properly again.

“Those bastards,” Bart hisses, cuddled up next to Tim in his bed, pouting angrily as Tim eats his soup. “I can’t believe them… actually, I can. What a bunch of - a bunch of…!”

“Easy,” Kon tries to soothe. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just… let’s just breathe, okay?”

Tim nods, focusing on the food and the comfort his friends provide, their nerves and anger aside. He doesn’t want to talk about it, he probably won’t ever.

He’s home, he can start to pick up the broken pieces, start to rebuild and he’ll file away the memory like a bad dream, never to be revisited again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thanks for reading :) I'm currently working on the next chapter to the fic this is based off of. If you haven't read it and are interested, you can find it [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124100).
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://rainbowredrobin.tumblr.com/) for sneak peaks to chapters and other writing stuff. Feel free to ask me questions or tell me what you think!
> 
> As of 9/20/2020 I am taking writing requests! You can find the post explaining how it works [HERE](https://rainbowredrobin.tumblr.com/post/629633548447612928/requests-are-open-for-an-undetermined-amount-of).


End file.
